


In your warmth (I forget how cold it can be)

by priscilacross



Series: Wild World [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Jim apologises because he should the littleshit, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 11:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12958512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilacross/pseuds/priscilacross
Summary: Jim gets sick, Oswald is the best mom friend anyone could ask for. Certainly more than Jim deserves.





	In your warmth (I forget how cold it can be)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 'Snow' prompt for Gobblepot Winter. It's been a while since I've written anything creative. Sorry the tense keeps fluctuating. This is not revised or edited in any way, my apologies for this as well. I've been stuck writing research papers, but finally I had a bit of time for this. After this week's episode, I needed some fluff, because Oswald deserves better. Kind of an alternative universe I guess. spoilers?? shit never went down, Sofia went home and never came back. A prologue if sorts? hope you like it, even if just a little bit. Title taken from Bastille- Warmth

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“I need your help.”

As per usual, the detective only came to him when he was useful. Oswald didn’t mind, he also used Jim afterall. The criminal was sitting at his dinner table, Olga had just brought food, and he was about to enjoy his first bite. Nevertheless, he didn’t sound as annoyed as he was when he address the detective.

“James, nice to see you too. This better be important for you to so rudely interrupt my dinner.” He sighs, getting out of his chair, “What can I do for the GCPD today?”

“Not the GCPD, I’m working alone on this one, so I would appreciate your discretion. There’s this gang that has been selling drugs to the people in the narrows. I need to know if you have any information that could be useful,” Jim says walking closer to Oswald, closing the space between them till they were just inches apart. “Please, you’re all I’ve got, Oswald.” Jim is unaware of his hand reaching Oswald’s arm. 

The words catch the gangster off guard. Specially considering the short distance between them, and the honesty to Jim’s words. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Oswald.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Jim.”

“I’ll owe you one,” the detective says as he steps back and let’s go of Oswald’s arm.

Oswald stays still for a moment, missing the contact, “You actually owe me more than one. I’m starting to think I’ll never get to see the fruits of my labor.”

“You will, Oswald. You will,” Jim says with a tiny smirk and a wink. Something Oswald had done to Jim in the past, but he never expected it from the detective. 

-

The next time Jim came to see him, Oswald had enough information to arrest the head of the whole operation. “It’s just cocaine, Jim.”

“ _ Just _ cocaine, Oswald?” He asked a little incredulous towards Oswald’s views. Yet he smiles, a tiny amused smile. 

“Yes, I mean they have roughly about half a million dollars worth of snow so I understand your urgency to catch them. But a cocaine bust in Gotham? That's a blessing considering all the other ridiculousness this city has to offer, don't you think? Here’s everything my men gathered,” he says thrusting a folder including pictures of the gang leader and several of their distributors. 

Jim’s slight smile widens to a full smile by the time Oswald is finished talking. “I could kiss you right now, thank you so much.” 

Oswald coughs, “Please refrain from doing so. You said you were working on this alone? I’d rather you not go and bust them by yourself. They won’t go down easy, James. Please allow me to accompany you. I can assure you, you will need the help of my men with this one.” 

“It’s cold outside,” Jim says his eyes focus on Oswald’s leg for a moment before they go back to his face, “If they’re as dangerous as you say, you probably don’t want to be there. Besides, I will have the GCPD’s support. Thanks to you, I have enough proof to get the commissioner behind this,” he says raising the folder Oswald gave him.

Oswald scoffs, stuck on the detective’s comment of him avoiding dangerous situations. “James, I thought you knew me better than that.” 

The worry was evident in Jim’s face. “It’s supposed to snow all weekend, we already have a couple inches of snow,” he offers hoping the promise of cold will deter the criminal from going out. 

-

The bust was a success.  All the drug dealers and their lackeys had been loaded into police cars. Jim was unable to stop Oswald from coming along. Despite his Antarctic bird nickname, the Penguin was not one for cold. His nose was a nice crimson shade that made his freckles stand out more than usual. The detective walked towards Oswald who was standing next to his bodyguard. He could feel the snow getting into his shoes and soaking his socks. He knew he should've worn boots, but completely forgot. The closer he got the more Jim noticed how cold the Penguin actually was. He tried not to stare, but failed. The mobster was shivering just enough that no one would notice unless they focussed on his dazzling frame for longer than a minute. 

Jim took his coat and draped it over Oswald. The smaller man looked up surprised, his mouth slightly ajar. 

“You can return it later,” Jim said. “You should go home, we got it from here.” He grabbed onto Oswald’s shoulder and squeezed it slightly before letting go and walking away. If Oswald responded in any way to his actions, Jim didn't stay or turn back to witness it. He knew he was acting strange, but he couldn't help himself. 

After he put Sofia on that train back home, he realized how much he cared about Oswald. When he found out how close Sofia was to dethrone Oswald, he knew he had to stop her and protect Oswald no matter what. He remembers how heartbroken the gangster had been when his mother was killed. His reign in the underground was all he had. Jim owed it to Oswald to protect him. Deep inside, Jim knows Oswald is doing Gotham good. The city can't ever be free of its criminals. Good cannot exist without its evil counterpart. Jim knows, but he's always fought against this truth. It is now that he finds himself alone that he realizes, he needs Oswald. He was never going to be able to stay away from him. They are tied to each other. 

When Harvey accused him of not killing Penguin at the docks that cursed day, he answered honestly, ‘If I had the chance to go back, I would've done the same thing.’ Oswald looked so pathetic, so weak, so vulnerable. It made him so angry that instead of wanting to put him behind bars for all the crimes he'd committed, all he wanted to do was give the man a blanket and maybe some hot cocoa. He lied to Oswald that one day he told him, ‘God knows I wish I hadn't,’ when the gangster thanked him for sparing his life. So much has happened since then. Oswald has grown cold toward him, but he knows the kingpin must still feel something toward him.

-

The next day Jim woke up to the worst case of the flu he’s had in a long time. His throat was a raspy mess, coughing made his back hurt. It was like he was in a desert. His mouth was so dry even after he'd drank an entire liter of water. His stomach pinched him, he was starving, but at the same time he wanted to vomit. He got up to the bathroom, hunched over himself. His head vibrated, just enough to make him nauseous. Enough for him to wish he was unconscious. Screaming, his muscles communicated the aches to him, especially his neck muscles. The promise of medicine or hot tea were the only thing keeping him going, but he simply couldn't walk to the kitchen. 

He slumped back into bed carefully. He recoiled on himself. Achy legs, like he'd been running miles. He rubbed them together for relief that never came. He rolled on his side at a glacial pace. This provoked coughing and his throat’s fire burned brighter. He knew he had vaporub somewhere. He was so thirsty, but the thought of getting up from bed made his stomach churn. He stayed in bed miserable. 

 

Then he heard a knock on the door. He didn't want to get up. He thought if he didn't answer whoever it was, maybe they would leave. But the knocking was persistent. He picked up his bundle of duvets, rolled himself in them and walked to the door. 

“Whoever it is you better-” he stopped himself as the bleary image of Oswald came into view. “Oswald,” he said his name as a wave of relief overcame him. Oh no, he was dead now wasn’t he? Oswald would never come over to his grimy apartment. Jim stood there with his mouth open. 

“Hello Jim, looks like I came at the most appropriate time,” he said as he let himself in, shaking the snow off his shoes. 

“Oswald?” He asked now.

“Yes, Jim,” Oswald laughed that fake laugh he uses when he’s being smart. “I brought some stuff to make porridge. I figured this would happen. You shouldn’t have lent me your coat, detective,” he said as he hung the coat on the closet by the door.

“How did you know?”

“Well, let’s just say the GCPD is worried their new captain might’ve been taken hostage by me. Please call in sick next time so I don’t have your officers interrupting my breakfast.”

“Oh,” was Jim’s eloquent response. 

-

Oswald made the porridge like he promised. Jim ate two full bowls. Once his stomach was appeased, the gangster brought some medicine for him to take. Jim sat up in bed, and Oswald had sat on a chair by the headrest, his jacket hanging on a kitchen chair. The pain was so intense, he didn’t even fight the meds. He obediently drank the pills down to Oswald’s surprise. 

“You’re too trusting, Jim. What if those pills were poison?” Oswald amused. 

“You love me too much to do that,” the words escaped before Jim could do anything. The sickness had not only made him slow, but had also apparently gotten rid of his filter.

Fortunately, Oswald doesn’t seem to mind, “Do I now?” 

The casual tone along with the nonchalant attitude kinda piss Jim off. “Yes, don’t you?” He asks concerned.

“Jim, I think this illness has left you with a fried brain.” He leans in to feel Jim’s forehead for a fever. Jim takes the opportunity to grab Oswald hand. It was cold even though the man had been inside for quite some time. Oswald stilled and waited for Jim’s next move. Jim simply laid his hand over Oswald’s still over his forehead.

“Thank you, Oswald,” he said before he closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep, his hand falling to the side of his head.

Oswald caressed the detective’s cheek, and brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, before letting himself smile. “You’re welcome, James.” 

-

As much as he’d wanted to stay by Jim’s side were he to need anything, Oswald knew sleeping on a chair would do him no good. Nor would sleeping next to Jim, the virus carrier. He moved to the living room and rested on the couch. Arranging some pillows, he let his foot rest on top of them. Letting go of a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, he finally relaxed. Well, his body relaxed. His mind kept going. Why was Jim all of a sudden being nice to him? Did the detective finally realise his intentions to be friends were genuine? How hard can it be? He's been open about that much. Jim should know by now, the Penguin hates his guts, but Oswald Cobblepot loves his persistence. 

He rubs his face with his hands, the hands that were not long ago caressing Jim's face. He gives another deep exhale. What will he ever do with James Gordon? 

-

By the time Jim woke up, Oswald had made himself acquaintance with the apartment. He'd made himself a simple sandwich for dinner, and was aware of the time so Jim wouldn't miss a dose of the medication. If they were to wear off, he'd be in pain again. 

Jim had once again sat up on the bed, a small smile evident on his face. He was finally able to have a restful sleep thanks to the pills Oswald gave him. Oswald walked into the room. Jim’s eyebrows furrowed with worry. 

“How are you feeling, Jim?” The  criminal asked as he took the seat by the headrest once again. 

“Better. Thank you, Oswald,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep.

Oswald nodded and smiled at him. “Now, what was that about me loving you, detective? You seem to be a little over your head.”

Color rose to Jim's cheeks. He knew this conversation was coming but he would've liked to avoid it for longer. “I'm sorry for what I said, Oswald. Maybe you did once, but I've been an asshole to you so I don't blame you if you hate me. I've done so many terrible things to you, I've been to stubborn to see… just how good you are.”

“Now, now detective, let's not get agitated. You're still recovering after all.”

“No, Oswald. This apology long overdue.” Jim looked into Oswald's eyes. They were such a beautiful color, he could never put his finger on what to call it. He reached for the smaller man’s hand. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for thinking you were a monster, when the only monster was me. So much could've been avoided if only I'd listen to you.”

With his free hand, Oswald caressed Jim’s cheek. “Thank you, James.” 

“I… I hope it's not too late to fix things,” Jim squeezed Oswald’s hand gently.

“I'm here, aren't I?” Oswald smiled, and Jim smiled right back at him. 


End file.
